I, Illuminated
by xcst
Summary: In a world ruled by Voldemort, Hermione finds herself sacrificed for the greater good. Again. A story about change, hindsight and acceptance.
1. Chapter 1

_A.N. Welcome! This will be a story about change, about hindsight, about accepting some things and letting some others go. This is a story about consequences and how to make the best out of nothing. Please excuse my poor grammar sometimes, I do not have a beta although I'd love one. My absence from , so far, has contributed to me evolving and growing. _

_Prologue_

I was near the edge of the apparition wards and I could feel the vibration of their magic. The air was heavy, humid, and putrid – it looked like it was going to rain. I knew why I was here, what I was going to do, and where I was going to be at the end of the day, and in that respect, I briefly considered suicide. I quickly dismissed that line of thought. There were no place for heroics and tantrums in this story. Cowardice saved lives – hell, look at Pettigrew. As much as endearing and entertaining the thought of ending my own life was, there were still things that were expected of me. Correction – there were still things that I expected of myself. My opportunity to die, to get it all over with for once, was in front of me: an escape: no strings attached. My throat produced a sound that resembled laughter. It seemed that death and I were fuckbuddies now. I contemplated for a moment the power that lay in front of me – the hugeness of the fact that I, the human, the most arrogant being on this earth, was taking upon myself that ultimate decision that wasn't mine. It was empowering. But I'd been trying to do it for a while now, and couldn't bring myself to whisper the –_avra _left in Kedavra. And there was always something else to do. There was always homework, a Dark Lord to be fought, diplomatic liaisons, Christmas, a wedding, a sacrifice.

_"__Hermione, dear! Lose that sarcasm, it does not suit you."_ The voice of Molly Weasley rang in my head.

Dear. Mudblood whore. Darling. Sweetheart. Know-it-all. His. That's what they called me now.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He called me _his_ from the first time he ever laid his eyes on me. _"Keep my mudblood alive, Lucius, or you'll face the consequences."_ I had noticed that, almost a year earlier, at the Department of Mysteries, Lucius was only throwing mild hexes at me. I never paid much mind to it then, but in hindsight, it all made sense. His _Mudblood_ had to make the ultimate sacrifice. To step upon the holy ground of Hogwarts and offer her mind and body as a vessel for a piece of his soul. The only one that was left.

Breathe in.

The vibrations of the wards was becoming stronger by the second. My subconscious calculated that there are approximately twelve and a half steps until my impeding downfall. Taking under consideration that my heart rate was elevated, and that my brain required more oxygen than usual, that would mean approximately 14 deep breaths and shallow one. A whole lot of heartbeats, a few milligrams of sweat, and my mind will never be the same.

They all lost what they the most loved in this war, so why wouldn't I? Who was I to be spared of this agony that surrounded us all? I had been a lucky partaker so far; only one of my parents died and two or three friends. They were all replaceable and forgettable deaths. My mother was alive and well in Australia, and the rest of the people I cared about currently resided at the 12 Grimmauld Place, probably reassigning tasks that once belonged to me. Lupin would probably get the research and all my notes, Bill and Fleur would take over organizing and keeping the potions' ingredients clean and separated and Ron would take over my night shifts. The strategies would probably be handed to Arthur. They would probably have a toast for me at dinnertime, and Mr. Weasley would say a few words about my kind soul and how I was a needed sacrifice. They would all eat in silence and secretly hoping that this will pay off. That it will be over tomorrow. That they will be spared.

There was no more fighting for the light in this stage of the war, there was no more hoping and imagining that one day we will all have normal lives, untouched by the darkness that has already rooted itself so deep inside our souls.

Breathe out.

I remember that the first time I actually acknowledged him as a person, the first time that he was real to me, I thought "I could love this man". I've been reading about Tom Riddle in an old book from the Hogwarts library, about a boy who was so brilliant that surpassed his teachers at a very early age. I felt a sort of connection on an intellectual level, someone with whom I had the possibility to exchange ideas and compare experiences, a counterpart. I had no idea who he was, evidently, and my admiration for a boy wizard who managed to amaze the world with his intellect and charisma was replaced by a deep rooted hatred for the man – no longer a boy now – who killed my best friend's parents and made my very existence in this beautiful wizarding world a taboo. Tom Marvolo Riddle was the man who had made himself an altar from skulls. Tom Marvolo Riddle was the man I was twelve steps away from giving myself to.

I was closing in the distance from the wards that were now vibrating with joy. I could feel the small tendrils of magic reaching out for my own, to scan if my presence was allowed into the premises. I briefly wondered if he altered the wards for my arrival, or if he would enjoy the show of seeing me thrown away by their force. I was no fool, I knew he could see me. I knew that he was staring straight from the other side, a mere 50 yards between us, waiting for me as hungry wolf. I was that brave – I would make the first step, and he knew that. I could almost feel the anticipation that Hogwarts radiated, that _he _radiated but I still had a one minute and thirty-seven seconds left. One minute and thirty-seven seconds of myself. Thirty-two now.

Breathe in.

The amnesty scroll came in a Thursday evening, and found us all in the dining room of the old Black House, planning the next extraction. Since Harry was slaughtered, the Order was struggling to make ends meet. There was no more hope for a better outcome, we had gotten to the point where we cut our losses and tried to find someplace to live. There were only a few left, the ones that the media associated directly with Dumbledore, and therefore could not be relocated and integrated in the new regime. In the aftermath of Harry's death, all we could do is relocate the Order Members as far away as possible, to be given false identities and start anew. We've managed a dozen or so of successful extractions, and were now planning on how to relocate the Shacklebots in Egypt, when a raven entered the premises with that damned piece of paper in his hand. It was a simple parchment that oozed dark magic with a few carefully chosen words. It was a simple deal: Hermione Granger had to be handed over to the Dark Lord in exchange for pardons for all still currently involved in the Order of the Phoenix. Failure to do so would ensure a full prosecution of the Member's crimes against the new Voldemort Regime. They would be trialed as traitors and most likely be executed. Hermione Granger was desired by the Dark Lord to act as a vessel for his soul, since Nagini was approaching an imminent death and the horcrux living inside of her will have to be transferred to another body. Hermione Granger was deemed worthy by the highest of the state, Lord Voldermort, to be the next vessel for his soul to live in. Thinking about it, Hermione took a moment to appreciate the brilliance behind the plan. It would serve both as revenge and as an opportunity to shut off the Order once and for all. She would be made an example, the perfect one – since she was the one with the brains from the Golden Trio, for all the world to see. Mess with Lord Voldemort, he will take the thing you treasure most in this world – in her case, her mind.

The next day and a half was filled with half-heartedly attempts from everyone to cheer me up. Not even for a second was the option of me not sacrificing myself _for the greater good_. They all knew it was futile, I knew it was futile. If I chose not to go, they would force me. The spirit of camaraderie was long gone in the Order. You did what needed to be done in order to keep the other ones alive for a bit more. It meant sacrifice, it meant loss. It meant stealing food from muggle supermarkets, learning all kind of sorts of untraceable charms and understanding how to make a place unplottable. We have given each other ranks, based on how crucial our role were they in the extractions. Arthur Weasley, Remus Lupin, Molly Weasley, myself and Bill were given a rank 4. Ron, Ginny, Fleur and Neville were a rank 3. The rest of the children from Hogwarts and their relatives were a rank 2 and 1 respectively.

Having a rank 4 did not mean you were important. No, it meant you had to be kept alive in order for the whole operation to stand. Seamus and I had been ambushed in a supermarket a few weeks ago. We were on a mission – a simple one - to get some food and toiletries for the next few weeks, when the Death Eaters came in. Seamus jumped in front of the spell that was meant for me without hesitation, knowing that somehow if I lived, more and more people would get out of the country. I had been oblivious of the whole ranking system until that moment, but when Seamus asked me with glassy eyes, blood flowing from his nose and mouth, to take his parents out next, it sunk in. I had to be protected. They had to protect me not for the love they held for her, but for my brain.

When everyone read and understand what the amnesty scroll stood for, there was a moment of deep silence. That stopped the moment Molly let out a long breath. She sounded… relieved. There was a possibility, there was something she could do to keep the rest of her family alive. The argument was over before it started. Hermione Granger was going to die.

Small droplets of rain were touching my hardened face. Seven and a half steps until I touched the wards. Until I surrendered herself to the darkness that was _him. _Until I willingly gave my mind and my body to psychopath bent on conquering the world. Breathe in, breathe out. Until _I, _Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of my age, will surrender my current status as an independent autonomous human being to being amongst his spoils of war.

For how long had he be planning this, I asked myself. Everything he ever did was so carefully constructed and planned. I couldn't help but notice the elegance in his ambushes. He would always wait for the perfect moment to strike, always waiting for that slip, for that imperfect spell. Waiting for everyone to think they were safe, that we got away, that they got to live another day. Then, he would strike. And it would be ruthless, a bloodbath, a massacre. There was no regard for dignity and integrity in the deaths he distributed. Nobody died like a hero here.

Three, two...

One step was all that was separating me from the rest of my life.

It was too late for that last "-_avra_" now, although I mourned the possibility

The rain started pouring heavily, and all she could think was "How fitting".


	2. Chapter 2

_A.N. Just to clear some things out from the beginning, in this story, Hermione is a deeply flawed character. She will make questionable decisions and she will ponder upon them. She will, of course, remain Hermione, but as the story progresses, you will see that this story is about accepting and merging two of the most powerful and contoured characters in the Harry Potter Series. This is a story mostly based on introspection, and you will find different POVs both from Hermione and from Voldemort. Just remember, everything in this story is subjective, and not all the things seen and experienced by the characters are guaranteed to be the truth._

_Thank you for reading, and if you enjoy it, please review. It makes me feel good to know people read this._

I killed Tom Riddle's diary with a basilisk's fang. I felt no mercy, I didn't compare it to a human. But when I felt it screaming, when I felt its suffering it became real, I realized I had killed someone, or at the very least a part of someone. Nobody knew what happened with the pieces of one's soul after killing the horcrux, but we had a vague idea that they didn't return to their owners. So that meant it was lost forever, a spirit, a coincidence.

"A horcrux for a horcrux, Miss Granger."

Captivity wasn't that bad. There were no cold stone walls and no mice to chew on my hands and feet while I slept. I figured they had to keep me mildly healthy in order to survive whatever ritual that was in store for me. Those associated with the darkest of magic were rarely tried on by the ones with the weaker hearts. Had it been like that, there would be more than one Lord Voldemort in this world. I was fed some slices of bread two times a day through a trap door, and once a day someone threw me a bottle of water.

I didn't suffer from the lack of comfort either. They had a dirty mattress set out for me, which was better than the cold floor. I had learned to be appreciative of the things I had a long time ago. They took me out a few days ago, to the Great Hall of Hogwarts, now transformed into _his _throne room. They blindfolded me, tied my hands at my back, but I could still hear them. I've learned then that sometimes it's good, really good, not to see around you. If I had seen where I was, I might have panicked, my instincts might have kicked it, I might have tried to fight. It's good that I didn't.

"Hermione Jean Granger, born on the 19th of September 1980 to Hugo and Rose Granger, Muggle London, Great Britain. Identification Number MZ19121980013E7 Wand 10 ¾ inches, wine wood, core of dragon heartstring. Completed 6 years of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; known associate of Harry Potter and the Weasley Family. Physical features: 5 feet 2 inches, brown Hair, light brown eyes. Kept for 24 hours in the dungeons for confirming the identity. No traces of polyjuice potion were found. Came on the premises at her own will, with the following belongings: wand; golden hand watch engraved with the initials H.J.G.– worn off, possibly a family heirloom. 4 items of clothing: dark jeans – muggle attire; brown sweater, forest green cape, brown leather boots. There were also found a total of 1 galleon and 21 sickles in her pockets. The items have been tested and no trace of spells were found." A loud voice, I voice I didn't recognize presented me to whomever was around.

It's good that I didn't see, it was really good. Maybe it will be over fast. If it was a ritual, there wasn't something Voldemort could do to actually change the necessary steps. So from that point of view, I was protected. There was no need for me to go through extended suffering. My body needed to be strong in order to be able to take on a piece of _his _soul. I could smell everything around me, and hear everything with such clarity it had astounded me. I could smell the Great Hall, I could smell those old tables that had so many goblets of pumpkin juice spilled on them. I could feel the moisture on the walls, I could hear the walls slowly shifting. There was never so quiet in the Great Hall, and now I had finally understood what Dumbledore was saying. Hogwarts was a magical object in itself, Hogwarts was always changing. But now, I feared that Hogwarts was changing to accommodate its new master. To take power over such a great object one had to be immensely powerful itself. I could not find an equivalent for that amount of power.

"Nagini is getting worse and worse by the day. Will she be ready in time?"

"Look at the mudblood… such filthy scum should never walk on these grounds."

"She's just a child…"

I heard fearful voices whispering just I was dragged out of the room. They were mere whispers, but I heard them all in detail. And for the first time in years, I kept my mind shut.

Years with the Order has taught me that any little figment of information was important for any outcome. At this stage, I have readily accepted my faith. While my instincts told me to be fearful, I ignored it to the best of my abilities. I tried to ignore the whispers that told me the ritual was supposed to happen soon, I tried to ignore my instincts to fight against the thick magical ropes, I tried to ignore everything. I kept cool and collected, just I had promised myself to be. There is no use to fight in this situation, Hermione, and I never did useless things.

I've been thrown away in my cell, where I have learned to appreciate the silence. Silence meant no information, nothing for me to ponder upon. Maybe it was the fact that someone was choosing my fate for me. Maybe I knew I had no escape, maybe it had something to do that I came here willingly, and wasn't snatched from my home, from my safe place. Ironically, I started to love my cell, nothing bad ever happened here. There was no need for me to think here, no need to plan, no need to worry. I already knew what was going to happen. I could cease to exist, and at that moment, I was fine with it. I was fine with it all, and for a second, I've found peace.

It is said that a lot of people sense when their death is near. It is said to be a feeling that cannot be described, like a force that pushes and guides you to put all your affairs in order. I felt that now, and I was glad that I didn't had so many regrets in this life. I didn't try it all, I didn't regret the years spent on a library chair instead of partying and I clearly didn't regret not kissing enough boys or getting drunk with Firewhiskey every Friday and Saturday. I can't exactly pinpoint the moment when _the change _happened. I can't remember if it was a certain event that triggered it, but I know that somewhere between my fourth and fifth year at Hogwarts I had changed. And I wasn't the only one that noticed it either. The boys were a little more reluctant to talk to me because I wasn't interested in the things that made us as a group stick together anymore. They still talked to me nonetheless, my alliances still lay with Harry, but at some point, there was a break. It changed me as a being, it changed me as a person and it definitely changed me as a girl. My personality traits didn't change, though. I was still the same hardworking reliable Hermione that always did what had to be done. That didn't change. But I did have a tendency to name things and love books more than people. I was often confused for an A-type of personality, yet I was not. I'm more of a thinker than a doer, always was. I had a faux boyfriend that did not understand me and my pet is called Crookshanks. I named it, of course. I had anxiety issues and absolutely hate oranges. People had not yet lost hope in me. I still had a few that hang around with the hope that one day I'll show that exuberance I used to show when they first met me. That ship had sailed a long time ago. I was nice to most people. My best friend had a questionable morality. I secretly judged people who wear light colored jeans. I looked good in black. I didn't have a favorite food or color. My best quality was being able to forgive and love people; my worst flaw is the same. I did not feel the need to show myself to the world. I used to be a firm believer in karma, but I recently started question that. There is no balance, not in this world. I had alternate periods of my personality that varied from: fighter, peacemaker, nonpartisan, thinker, and not-give-a-shitter. I was none of them fully. I obsessed about things, but I got over it fast. I was often frustrated by people. I detested people who gave up on things. Scratch that – I totally and utterly hated people who gave up on things. My humor was darker than Severus Snapes' cape. I sometimes just knew things – call it a gift.

Just like I know that my mind will never be the same again.

The only thing I allow myself to hope for is to be erased from this existence permanently. Let him have my body, let him have it all.

Just kill it. Please, just…

Kill my mind.

"Mudblood. Get up." There he was, again, my guardian. I needed not remember his name, nor did I care about it.

"I wasn't sleeping. I was meditating." I respond. My voice is calm and serene every time he tries to make conversation. He hates me for it.

"You're going to see him today."

I didn't respond. I didn't care really, I knew there was nothing he could do to hurt me physically. And if he wanted to hurt others, let him do it. I sacrificed myself, I did my part.

The journey was not long, just a few lefts and rights and there I was, in the dark, with my blindfold on. I couldn't move my feet, I noticed a few moments later, something kept me into place, something that was not rigid, but had a soft and slippery texture.

I heard the door shut at my back and the first thing I did was to remove my blindfold. I wish I hadn't.

There, keeping me steady was the largest snake I had ever seen in my life. It was majestic, it reeked power, and it was all over me. _Nagini. _Fear and panic took over me but then I remembered, there was nothing he could to hurt me, was there. No, I was it's replacement… I was a light bulb in this world of magic. I was _his _light bulb. I tried to keep as steady as possible in order not to frighten it. The snake, _Nagini_, was circling me with its huge body, feeling me up, molding itself to my frame. From time to time it hissed, and for a moment I wanted to be a parseltongue.

"I can't understand you." I whispered to its head.

The snake started moving and hissing furiously.

"I really can't." I said it again.

"Can you make me understand it?" I screamed to the empty room. There was no answer, of course. But I kept saying and saying it until someone heard me.

The snake was moving vigorously around my body now, as I tried to keep my instincts at bay.

There's nothing I could do then, just sit there and let the huge snake envelop me. I could feel it around my arms, my legs I could feel its scales on my skin, and for a brief moment I wish I just knew. The point of all this.

"Masssster…"

What?

"What?"

"Masster made you ssssee me now. Undersssstand me."

So there was a way. If I had known this information some time ago. No, Hermione, don't go there.

"You're Nagini." I finally said after I took on what happened. "Is he here?"

"He'ssss alwaysss here. He'ss a part of me. He issss me. I asssked to meet you. To sssse you."

"You're weak." I stated.

"I am dying. I needed to ssssee who would take my place. You need to know."

"What is there to know? I'll die. I'll be erased from this world."

"It's more complicated like that, mudblood. You'll ssssee. You'll take my place and you'll be his ssssoul."

"He has no soul." To that, the creature started to be visibly agitated, tightening its grip on me.

"You'll be hissss soul. You'll ssssee. You'll never be able to ssseparate you from him. You'll be him and he'll be you. There are no boundariesss with magic, child. You're merging."

"I'll lose myself."

"You already lossst child, that's why you're here. But think of the privilege. You'll get to ssseee hissss mind. You'll finally sssee."

I didn't want to see. I wanted to be erased, to be forgotten. I wanted to escape.

"Why are you dying, Nagini?"

"My body isss weak, it's been yearsss serving the Massster. He can't have a piece of him in a weak body, child. He can't be weak. Your body is ssstrong. My body can't take hissss soul anymore, it hasss eaten it, child. We have to part waysss."

"What will happen to you?"

"He'll kill me, but have no regretsss child, I welcome it. Hisss piece of sssoul needsss to ssseee you. It needsss to recognissse you before jumping in."

"That's why you're here." I said, as I finally understood.

"And that's why you're here. Massster never forgets."

"I'm just a creature to him." I said, realization hitting me like a ton of brick walls.

"We all are, Misss…".

_"__A horcrux for a horcrux, Miss Granger."_


End file.
